An Award, a Photo

This personal story from Nikole Hannah-Jones is a keeper:

Yesterday was a big day for me. I was surrounded by friends and family who came from all over to see my given an award. But I want to share the photo from yesterday that actually means the most to me -- and it is of me with two complete strangers.


I am always aware of how I am not supposed to be in many of the rooms I am in, how I am often one of few black faces seated at the table, but that the people who are serving the food, who set up the rooms, who cooked the food we are eating, that they are the ones who look like me

They are the invisible hands that make everything nice for the rest of us in the room. These, more than anyone in the room, are my people. I always think about my grandmama, who worked as a janitor at the courthouse.

And how when me and my dad would go see my grandmama all the “important” people would walk by her like she was invisible, like she did not matter. They would push past this old black woman while she was stooped wiping the windows of the doors, as if she did not exist.

I’ve never forgotten that sting. And so lately when I give talks, I try to remember to thank the people who make the events possible, to force the room full of “important” people to acknowledge my people.

So, I did that yesterday. I asked them to pause and applaud the people who had made the event the elegant and immaculate event that it was. To acknowledge that work, and its importance, but much more important, the worth of the people we often choose not to see.

And after my speech, these two women came from the back and asked to take a picture with me. I’m not famous. I’m not sure if they had ever heard of me before yesterday. But they wanted to take a picture with me because I saw them. And that meant something.

And so, honestly, of all the pictures I took yesterday, this one means the most. These are my people. I pray I never get to a point in my life where I forget that I come from invisible people who always, always deserved to be seen.

I was particularly emotional accepting the award because all I have been thinking about lately, what has consumed me, is that I am getting all of these accolades because children are suffering and I write about them. And there is something that feels profoundly unfair about that.

And so I feel the need to always, always remind myself of this truth: That my greatest achievements have come because so many of our children, the children I write about, will attend the types of schools that will ensure they never have an opportunity to be in rooms like this.